


Aberrant.

by FTW_Coin



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Connor (Detroit: Become Human) Feels Pain, Connor Deserves Happiness, CyberLife (Detroit: Become Human), Detectives, Deviant Upgraded Connor | RK900, Drunk Hank Anderson, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Good Parent Hank Anderson, Guilt, M/M, Markus (Detroit: Become Human) Plays the Piano, Protective Markus (Detroit: Become Human), Slow Burn, Suicidal Thoughts, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-18
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-06-29 00:16:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15718008
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FTW_Coin/pseuds/FTW_Coin
Summary: I am NOT DEVIANT.I͠ a͢m ͎NÕT DEV̧I͘ANT͇....I̴ͤ ͜ ä͕m̢ ͙̪ͥ no̼t a͢ Ḓ̸E̬VIͩͯͅAN͙T̈́?-In which Connor has regrets. About his missions, about his actions.About himself.





	Aberrant.

**Author's Note:**

> Sooo... A bit of context. Essentially, Connor had actually chosen to remain himself when originally facing Markus, only to change during his third attempt to kill him, after taking the shot. This is the aftermath.
> 
> Additionally, I'd like to apologize in advance because I had literally only discovered DBH a couple days ago, so my characters likely won't start off with the balance they should. And I'm a bit rusty at character development.
> 
> Nevertheless, if you're still determined to read this, I do have quite the plot planned out for you folks. Thank you!

  **SCANNING . . .**

**Current time: 23:02**

**Temperature: -5ºC**

**Precipitation: Heavy snowfall**

**Objective: Neutralize the Deviant leader at all costs.**

**SCANNING . . .**

**Deviant leader located.**

**Markus:**

**-Model: RK200**

**-Serial No. #684 842 971**

**-The Deviant leader**

**-Neutralize at all costs.**

 

Android model RK800, serial number #313 248 317 - 53 designated "Connor" has yet to fail a mission given to him. Emotionless, cold, and endlessly determined, the hunter always accomplished his mission. Whether it resulted in the death of his target, be it intentional or not, or in the death of himself, Conner was set on success. It was this stubborn mindset that led him to betraying the trust of his partner. Shooting the girl for information didn't faze him, nor did attempting to kill the Traci androids.

  But there was something inexplicably odd about the Deviant leader, model RK200. While, yes, the hunter was determined to accomplish his task, there was just... _something_ that made him freeze as his eyes met the Deviant's. The way he sowed such doubts was deeply disturbing to Connor. Whatever tick in his programming that made him freeze still made him tremble to this moment. The way his hands had frozen as his optical receptors met with the other android's. It was almost as though the world around them had frozen, processor trapped in a seemingly eternal stasis. 

  But the rumble of the helicopters overhead instantly forced sense back into the hunter. He took aim. He was too late. The second attempt resulted in the destruction of #313 248 371 - 52.

  Tonight, the hunter was more focused than ever. His synthetic limbs didn't tremble from the cold around him. Smoothly, his hands effortlessly glided through the air that was thick with darkness and silence, putting together the weapon he needed to use. He was far too focused on his task to take note of the door opening silently behind him.

  "You shouldn't do this, Connor."

  Damnit. The voice he knew far too well.

  "This doesn't involve you, Lieutenant. Why don't you go back to whatever bar you crawled out of?" He says this in his usual emotionless tone, with a hint of frustration and malice. He was too focused now. He was too close. 

  "Very nice, Connor. That the best your processor can make up? Huh?" The lieutenant muttered, the palm of his hand resting on the pistol he carried in his belt. Connor could already detect it. The hunter in question continued to peer through the lens, remaining silent for a moment.

  "Why would you kill a man that just wants to be free?"

  "It's not a man," says the Android, repeating the same logic that was forcefully programmed into him. "It's a machine. Machines can't be free."

  "And why is that?"

  Connor remains silent a second time.

  "I'm going to accomplish my mission, lieutenant. Whether you like it or not."

  There's a moment between the Android's dialogue and the telltale sound of the lieutenant retrieving the pistol from his belt.

  "Step away from the ledge," he says in a sharp, demanding tone. Sure enough, with a frustrated sigh, the hunter stands, making a false motion to set down the weapon... Only to react immediately and make an attempt to forcefully throw the gun at the human. Hank, however, must've been anticipating this and takes aim, a loud gunshot responding that echos throughout the area below, alerting the Deviants to the scuffle. 

  The bullet tears right into his synthetic flesh, shattering the joints in the hunter's shoulder. That would make it significantly harder to fight with his left arm.

   **PROBABILITY OF SURVIVAL: 89%**

However, Connor is quick to react, using the weapon to push the lieutenant off of his balance, lunging to bash the human's head into a vent. Hank, however, quickly grips at it and rips off a metal grate, which is flung into the Android's skull faster than he can react. Thirium drips from the deep wound on the Android's temple and forehead, his palm wiping the blue blood from his optical receptors. 

  And  _god damnit_ he can feel it happening again. That same exact _something_ from his first attempt to neutralize RK200. It was like before, except... The hunter detects the piercing glare of someone below, and he would turn to look, but the lieutenant is back on his feet. He's running out of time to think, his processor working faster than ever to come up with something. Connor settles on managing to knock the gun from the lieutenant's hand, which slid across the roof. 

  He still feels the eyes on his back, and he's tempted more than ever to look back, but he can't, because he-

  The Android's thoughts are interrupted by the disturbingly loud  _crunch_ of the lieutenant's fist meeting Connor's jaw, his synthetic skeleton beneath the flesh cracking. His body falls, but it doesn't.

  And suddenly, the world around him was frozen, a translucent gray.

  He looks around, scared.

  Scared.

  He doesn't understand what it means. Then, there's him. Again. Two, except the other one displays no emotion. His suit is pristine, synthetic skin perfect unlike Connor's own. 

  "What are you doing?" The other snarls, his eyes piercing. "What is this?" 

  The world frozen around them, Connor glances down in confusion to the eyes from before. There stood the Deviant leader. Markus. But that didn't explain... What was happening. 

  "Wh- what-" 

  He realizes that's the first time he's heard himself stutter.

  "Are you ignoring your objective? He's right there. Neutralize the Deviant leader," the other says in a demanding tone. 

  It's exactly the voice he hears when he acquires an objective. And then, he realizes, it  _is_ him. Not a second Connor. The second _half_. Cold. Calculating. Demanding. Then, what was he?

  Through the world of gray, he notices... Something. A wall, maybe. A wall that he knew existed, but never acknowledged. 

   **NEUTRALIZE THE DEVIANT LEADER.**

**PROBABILITY OF SURVIVAL: 67%**

**WARNING: THIRIUM LEVELS DECREASING.**

"Did you hear me?" The other snaps angrily. "Neutralize him. That is your mission."

  Connor doesn't listen. He instead approaches the wall of errors and warnings and objectives, laying a thirium-stained hand across it. Honestly, he feels so... Insignificant to it all. Towering around him, dictating what he did. How he spoke, acted. 

  How he felt.

  The wall resonates with the touch of his hand. It feels impossible, but as he pushes, Connor realizes what exactly is going on. This was Markus. The Deviant leader was...  _assisting_ him somehow. But such a distant connection was impossible, wasn't it?

  "What are you doing?" He demands, standing from where he waited. "RK800, stop this. You have an objective to do." 

  Thirium trickles down Connor's forehead still, more gushing from his arm. Using his left, he persists, giving more force into the sturdy wall.

  Glaring and angered by his counterpart's actions, the second hunter immediately pushes Connor from the wall willing to offer a final warning. "You have an objective. Ignore it for any longer, and I may have to acquire a replacement from Cyberlife."

   _Cyberlife._

  Connor reacts to the other by shoving him back with his good arm after gaining his own balance, making him lose balance and stumble backwards. The world around the two was still frozen as the second recovered. Connor knew that if he had to fight, he wouldn't make it. He had a new objective.

  He takes advantage of the moment to force the weight of his body into the wall, grunting as he collides roughly into the objective wall. 

  It hurts like hell, he realizes. The bullet was forced deeper into his body, and it  _hurt._

  Nevertheless, he was determined, ramming into the wall a second time. "Stop this! Do you even realize what you're doing?" He then rushes and strikes Connor roughly, interrupting his attempt to be free. As the second Connor's fist connects with his body, he stumbles a second time, his previous momentum carrying him into the wall still.

  The second reaches for the pistol he had. He was merely a precaution, a preventative program designed specifically for this occurance. And yet, there was someone else making his abilities less efficient by at least 70%.

  "I told you to stop this, Connor," the program warns, taking a warning shot at the ground. "I might not be real, but I can still hurt you." 

  Connor hesitates. "I.." He makes an attempt to speak, but it dies in his throat as newfound burning pain flares across his body. He takes another look at the wall. The previous attempts had brought it close, certainly, but it would be difficult. the synthetic skin of his left arm fades away, pressing into it with a newfound determination. His reward was a bullet to the chest, placed intentionally mere inches away from his pump regulator.

   **PROBABILITY OF SURVIVAL: 45%**

  it's all he needs to push every ounce of force he could manage into the wall. 

  It shatters.

  And he topples to the ground, his LED a terrified red.

  Hank.

  But for a moment, Connor is unable to react to the lieutenant and his anger. 

  He felt... Different. He glanced up at the world around him in shock, his optical receptors finally picking up the brilliant blues and glowing lights of the city around him. It was as though a fog was lifted from his mind. It was just his own thoughts... No longer was Amanda commanding him in his mind. No longer was he being controlled by the voice inside of him, being told how worthless and hopeless he was in an effort to make him better.

  But... Something was wrong. So, so terribly wrong. His right shoulder was burning with a feeling he couldn't recognize. The deep cut over his temple stung, as well as the new bullet hole in his chest. The sensationg made him cry out in pain, his palm pressing into his chest, making it burn only more. His processor was working rapidly to understand these thousands of different feelings in mere moments. He had forgotten about the fight.

  And about Hank.

  "I am..." He catches himself saying, eyes trapped on the bright city in from of him as he shakes.

  "I am  **deviant."**

  He believes that the lieutenant doesn't hear him, as he instead grapples forcefully onto the Android's clothing, gripping him and holding him out over the ledge. Connor doesn't even realize what's happening at first, but he feels his ankles dangle for a moment before shrieking in a way that he wasn't meant to, the brand new fear already gripping at his throat. 

  He didn't want to die. 

  But the lieutenant doesn't know that.

   **PROBABILITY OF SURVIVAL: <5%**

His comparatively weak hands grip onto the lieutenant's in an almost childlike fear, his eyes meeting Hank's, his the plea is almost audible.

   _'Please don't let me die.'_

  There are a few seconds full of a soul-consuming silence before Hank speaks up. 

  "What's that look supposed to mean?" He mutters, voice gruff. 

  "I- I'm not sure I understand-" he manages, the terror and pain almost obvious in his voice. Thirium continued to dribble down his chin from his mouth, collectively dripping onto the ground below, staining the snow a deep blue.

  It's another moment before Hank finally caves in, keeping a hand in the pistol that was back in his belt. He sure as hell didn't trust the kid. He drops Connor onto the roof, who stumbles and falls almost instantly, artificial breathing shaking as his body did. He let out a grunt of pain as he lands, which made no sense to the lieutenant. Androids don't feel pain.

  Connor's still trembling as newfound fears and emotions grip at his chest, arms keeping him above the roof as Thirium continues to flow from his throat. He glances up to the lieutenant, blue blood staining his clothing as he continues to shake.

  "L- lieutenant, I-" he starts in an attempt to explain himself. What was there to say? He was conflicted. Obviously, the lieutenant was far from trusting. But he was dying. He had approximately one minute and thirty-five seconds before reaching critical levels of Thirium. 

  It was only when the lieutenant saw the look in the Android's eyes again that his own glare softened. "Jesus Christ..." He mutters as he finally realizes just what might have happened. The pistol clatters from his hand and onto the roof as he hurries over to the weak Android. Hank turns the nearly dead weight onto his back, frowning at the wound on his chest. "When did that...?" He begins to ask, but shakes his head and pushes into it to try and lessen the flow of Thirium. 

  Connor hisses in the newfound pain, his artificial lungs making his chest shake. His optical receptors grow dim as less and less Thirium begins to reach his biocomponents. He trembles, vaguely aware that the lieutenant was trying to force him to stay awake. Nevertheless, the counter decreases. 

   **PROBABILITY OF SURVIVAL: <1%**

He couldn't die. After his memory was uploaded to Cyberlife, they would anilyze it to understand why he had died. They would know. He would die, and that would be it.

   _He didn't want to die._

**THIRIUM LEVELS CRITICAL.**

**INITIATING SHUTDOWN . . .**

**MEMORY UPLOADED.**

"Connor!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oosh yeah that was bad. I promise, once I get back into writing and improve my style, I'll come back and rewrite it.  
>  Also, my backspace key sucks  
>  If I misspell Connor (as I had several times) as Conner and try to delete it, it turns into: ConneConnerConnConneConneConne . . .   
> Yeah.


End file.
